Here’s a poem called “Love Story.”
Falling in love.
Is there anything else to say?
He spent his time collecting snow,
meticulously chasing the seasons
just to gather all the specimens
known throughout the world.
She listened to the dialogue of streams
and taught herself their foreign words.
Eventually the liquid codes
of riverbeds revealed themselves to her.
They met on the surface of
their melting waterways, his glance
reflected back to her the snowfalls
of her youth, the shrouds of frosted fog.
Her eyes were like blue fuses to the sea.
He imagined his future there
on shores where the wind reached the waves
stumbling like drunks into the sands.
They felt themselves fall through,
swimming in the water’s spell,
the blending their tenses,
the fusion of their forms.
Note: Poem first published in The Milo Review in 2014.